


Reunions

by GwendolynGrace



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Introspection, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: Two years after the wedding, they meet again.
Relationships: Boo & Fleabag (Fleabag), Boo/Fleabag (Fleabag), Claire & Fleabag (Fleabag), Claire/Klare (Fleabag), Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 84
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Reunions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heyoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyoh/gifts).



> For the Prompt: Fleabag's different relationships with people are the heart and soul of the show for me and really just want more of them! A fic involving Fleabag & Claire sister feels, a Fleabag/Priest fix-it or one that leans into the hurts so good ending, Fleabag and her dad in that weird adult child-parent relationship space they're in, or whatever! I love both season 1 "hot mess" Fleabag and season 2 "sort of has her shit together" Fleabag and would love a fic set in either season.
> 
> _I have a horrible feeling that I'm a greedy, perverted, selfish apathetic cynical depraved, morally bankrupt woman who can't even call herself a feminist._ \- Fleabag
> 
>  _Well, you get all that from your mother…. You're the way you are because of her….I think you know how to love better than any of us. That's why you find it all so painful._ \- Dad

It's Chatty Wednesday, so Bank Manager and his wife are both in the cafe, along with all the other regulars. I'm actually barely holding it together, but not because I'm such a mess, like the last time you saw me. I'm nervous and excited, because Claire and Klare are due to come 'round any moment. 

I know it's been a while, so perhaps I'd best fill you in. It's been almost two years since the day of Dad's wedding to our (continuously awful) Godmother. Claire's moved to Finland. She filed for divorce. She and Klare haven't been back since the final decree, over a year ago.

So I'm managing the customers and catching up with Bank Manager but I'm actually only half-listening, because mostly I'm hopeful that she looks good when she gets here. That she looks happy.

Which is why it's more than a little shocking when round the corner comes the priest. He's not got his collar on, but it's him. He's wearing the same denim he had on the last time he was in my shop, and a blue shirt, and a dopey expression.

And he's with a woman.

I'm not half-gutted. I'm so confused that I drop the cup and saucer I've been carrying and it smashes on the walkway tiles.

'Oh, I'll help!' Bank Manager says, jumping up.

'No, I've got it,' I say quickly. 'I've got a broom and such in the back.' In a way it's good, because if I can duck inside before--

'All right?' Bugger. It's the priest, and he's talking to me.

'Yeah, yeah, all right, just fine,' I'm stammering, 'I'm fine, I've been fine. How are you?' Bugger.

He glances in the same direction I just did. 'You...still do that, I see,' he comments mildly. 'Uh, I'm...fine, too. I--'

'I have to clean this up,' I say, and go into the cafe. Half the tables are outside. I go in the back for the broom and dustpan, and stand there, frozen. I could just hide here 'til he leaves. 'Til they all leave. 

But I can't. I've got other customers and I should replace the tea I was bringing out to Joe and probably another for Trudy, and I'm still waiting for Claire to arrive.

So I push along and focus on sweeping up the shards. He's still standing there, fingers laced in the hand of this tart next to him. 

'She's not a tart,' Boo says in my head.

She's right. She's not a tart. She seems nice. Like someone we would have got on with back in the day. She's got on a knit top that isn't cut too low, and it's curvy without being too tight. Her jeans are cut stylishly and she's got a smart pair of flats on. Her hair is short and straight, shades lighter than mine but not corn-yellow. She's...pretty, I suppose. Fit but not too fit.

'I'm sorry if I--' he starts to say.

'You didn't. Only I thought that--'

'I know. I...don't take this the wrong way but I forgot your place was here.'

'Oh,' I say. I'm actually terribly disappointed by that. I mean, I wasn't ever to darken the door of his church again, but he just blithely forgets where my place of business is? That's not on.

'I mean...I didn't mean it like that. I mean...I just wasn't thinking ahead.'

'Right,' I say, smiling tightly.

'How have you… Are you all right?' he asks. Again.

'Yes. Yes, things are good.' I'm going to leave it there. 'I...take it things have changed your end,' I say. Wow, I'm amazed I even said it. I was going to leave it there.

'Uh…' He has the grace to blush a bit as he looks over at his friend. 'A bit, yeah.' He looks at her again, as if considering whether to introduce us. So I introduce myself.

'Hi,' she says, extending her hand.

'Cheers,' I say. 'Sorry, but I've got to--' I point inside, then follow my finger indoors to make more tea.

By the time I come back outside, they've gone. Claire and Klare are sitting at one of the tables. Claire's actually chatting with someone she doesn't know. And she's smiling.

It's so incredible I set aside being monumentally angry at the priest. 'It's so incredible to see you!' I say to her. And we hug. It's not an awkward hug--well, I mean, it's awkward by normal standards, but for us, it's almost like we practiced.

'Your hair!' she says to me. I've been growing it.

'Your clothes!' I say. She looks fashionable and I tell her so. 'Let me get you a fresh pot and we can catch up.'

I feel the anger welling up again while I'm making tea. How dare he show up, after breaking my heart, with another woman? So he'd leave the church for someone else, but not for me? Arsehole. Prick. Worst yet, he's ruined my reunion with Claire.

'Bollocks,' I say aloud, and burn my hand in the steam as I reach for the kettle. I snatch my hand back and run cold water from the tap. After a bit of dousing, I pat my hand dry, pour the tea, and bring it outside. I'm determined to forget about him (again) and focus on my sister.

'Tell me everything,' I demand. 

Claire leans back--actually leans back in her chair. She's so...relaxed. It's almost painful to see how happy she is.

'Well…' she beams over at Klare, who is grinning ear to ear. 

'We're pregnant!' he blurts. It's like he's been holding it in and it had to escape.

'Oh, my god!' I shout back. 'That's...that's great! Is that great?' I ask her, but she's already nodding, with a closed-mouth smile.

'It's great!' she says forcefully. She takes a deep breath. A little of the old Claire leaks out as she continues, quickly, 'Of course, it's a high-risk pregnancy and it's early days; I might have to be off work for quite some time, if--'

'But so far, everything is good,' Klare says, putting his hand over hers. Instantly, the tension in her arms releases. 

'Does Dad know? I mean, who have you told?'

'No one else, yet,' she says. 'We wanted you to be the first.'

'Are you--well, I mean, how far along?'

'Just over four months,' Claire says. 

'You're supposed to chat with someone you don't know,' Janise says, appearing by the table.

'Yes, well, everyone here knows everyone, don't they,' I tell her.

'Well, I don't know this lot, do I?' Janise asks. She plunks down at the fourth seat and introduces herself. 

'They are not here for chatty Wednesday,' I bite out. 'Janise, I'm sorry, but--'

'Why don't we help you run things until closing?' Klare suggests. 'That way you can spend a bit more time together.'

'Oh, that's--really kind, but no. It's fine. Besides, you're on holiday. And you,' I say to Claire, 'should you be on your feet so much? In your _condition_?' I make air quotes to tease her.

'Stop,' Claire says, rolling her eyes. 'It's fine. But, no, actually we should go,' she continues, reading her watch. It's one of those smart devices that show you your texts and all. 'Lord, I've missed a message from Dad. We're meant to go to his, next, anyway. But...I'll ring you? We can get supper one night this week. All right?'

'Yeah, sure,' I say. I'm trying to hide the disappointment. When did I start feeling disappointed about not spending time with my sister?

Since I don't get to see her hardly ever, of course. But if there's anything I've learned over the last four years, it's how to live with disappointment. So I let them go and then later I'm cleaning up after closing and--

'Hey,' he says from behind me. I recognise the voice, the soft accent. I can't believe he came back. But this time, I don't drop what I'm holding, at least.

'Hi,' I reply, but I don't stop moving. 

'I...really didn't mean to--'

'So you've said, but you've come back again. This time I assume it's deliberate. I mean, you didn't accidentally leave your girlfriend somewhere and then circle 'round because you've already forgot where the cafe is--'

'No, I didn't. It wasn't an accident. This time. I wanted to apologise.'

'You wanted to apologise for coming 'round and disturbing me. By coming 'round and disturbing me.' I snort in disgust at the irony of that. I head inside, and he follows.

'I know it seems daft,' he says. 'I really did lose track of where we were, relative to--'

'I get it, I believe you. Now--will you please...leave.'

He smiles, but it's like the light in his eyes goes somewhere else. 'Yeah,' he acknowledges with a nod. 'Yeah, all right.' He turns. His hand touches the door frame. Then he turns round again. 'It's just...seeing you again. I--'

I have to turn my back or I might start to cry. Which is...just not like me...and also dead embarrassing. 'You know, I really do understand. It's all right.'

'No, I don't think you do.' He comes closer. 'Do you have any idea how hard it was to walk away that night? How difficult not to come find you?'

'Obviously, not that difficult,' I say. 'Was she the very next bird you fancied?'

'Well...yes, but--'

'God, do you know what's the most humiliating thing about that? I really thought...you really made me think I was special.'

'You were. You are. She's…. We only met about six weeks ago.'

'Have you told her you're a priest? Or does she know and you don't care, so much, with her?'

'I'm not a priest,' he tells me.

'What?'

'I'm not a priest. Not anymore.' He sighs. 'I left the church...last year. I couldn't--I couldn't stay. Let's just say that I couldn't take comfort in it, anymore.'

'...Oh,' I try to say, but a frog blocks my throat and robs my voice. 'I...guess I'm sorry, about that.'

'Well, it was your fault,' he quips.

'Cheek,' I say, reflexively, because I am not about to forgive him so quickly. I'm not going to let myself think how edible he looks. I'm not going to ask him--

'So, why didn't you contact me?' Damn, I asked him.

He shrugs, and it's so sodding elegant I can't half stand it. 'I figured...you would be settled. I didn't want to...dredge up--'

'Well, you shouldn't have done!' I shout. 'I was settled. I was...fine. I _am_ fine. Or I would be if you would just. Leave.'

And I feel a sob welling up inside me. I don't want to but it breaks free and I'm sodding crying in front of him. He closes the gap and grabs me about the shoulders. I pull in despite myself, I don't want to, because damn it, I am _fine_ \--

'I'm fine!' I insist. 

'I know,' he says gently. And that's enough to set me straight. I push him away.

'Stop that. Don't be all...comforting. It's your fault I'm a girl's blouse. Go away.'

'Okay,' he answers softly. He takes one step backward. 

'Oh, sod it,' I say, and move into him. Our lips meet and it's electric. Just like it's been every other time. I'm snogging him properly now, and he's just as enthusiastic as before. I'm hyper-aware of his hands kneading through my hair, of the way his trousers are pressing against my pinny, and--

~~~ _the clink of a belt buckle; my hands on Jack's flies_ ~~~ 

I back up. 'Sorry,' I stammer. 'Sorry, I--you're with someone now.'

'It's not...I don't know what it is,' he admits. 'But. If this is going to go somewhere--'

'Yes. Yeah, if.'

He tilts the top of his head toward the door. It's a gesture I recognise means he's referring to her, and before. 'We haven't been together long,' he hedges.

I shake my head. 'No. I can't do that. Again.'

'Again?' He nods knowingly. 'Oh, right… sex in other people's marriages.'

'I'm not going to be the cause of a breakup,' I insist.

'You've already been the cause of at least one of mine,' he jokes.

'Don't joke about it.' I don't want to tell him. I'm going to tell him. 'Sit down, will you, please.'

He sits. And I get Hillary out of her cage, because she's something alive and warm to hold on to, and I've not got anything else to anchor me here in the cafe. And I start talking. I talk about loving Boo, really loving her, and how she loved me but not the same way, and how she fancied him, and I wanted it for her because she's my best friend, so of course, I should want that for her, I should want her to be happy, and how I fucked it all up, and how that was partly because I'm so fucking desperate to fuck everything and partly revenge on her for not loving me back, and how everything that happened after that...happened.

And amazingly, it's not as hard as it was. It's hard. But it's not...it doesn't break me. Is that good? Or is that bad? It should break me. It should still tear me up that I did that to Boo. It should still rip me apart, knowing what I was capable of. 

But it doesn't.

And he listens. He listens with that priestly patience, that infuriating, bollocky niceness that should be illegal, it's so fair. He listens and he doesn't interrupt. And at the end, he says, 'Can I ask you something?'

'Okay,' I say.

'That night...in the confession booth. That's what was troubling you then, wasn't it?'

Suddenly, I can't speak. I nod.

He nods. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

I shrug. 'I thought...I was afraid that you'd forgive me. And I wasn't ready to forgive myself.'

He reaches over the table and takes my hand. 

'I should put her back--' I say, flinching away. 

He lets go, but when I turn back, he's standing over me. 'Do you want to be forgiven now?' he asks.

I shake my head. 'I don't...need forgiveness,' I say. And I mean it. 'It happened. It was a mistake, and it happened. And I have to learn from it. It's only if I keep making the same mistake that it's a problem. So.' I back up a very big step, almost hitting one of the other tables. 'Whatever this is, with this other woman, figure it out. If you decide to end things with her, that's your decision, but if you don't, then don't ever come back here. You chucked me out of your church, so I'm returning the favour.'

'Chucking me out of your cafe?' he confirms.

'Yep,' I say. To emphasize the point, I duck around him, open the screen door, and hold it for him. 

'So. Just to be clear. If I come back--'

'If you come back, I'll close the shop immediately, take you into the kitchen there, and ride you into next Thursday,' I promise. 'So if you come back, you'd better be free for at least two hours.'

He chuckles. On his way past me out the door, he strokes my cheek with one finger. It's all I can do not to nibble it, but I keep my cool.

'Okay,' he says softly. Then he turns up the street. I watch; just at the corner, he stops, nods, and then cracks on.

He'll be back. Yeah.... 

He'll be back.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Hellabaloo,
> 
> I really hope you like this! I need to thank you because somehow, I thought I had finished Season2 when I took this assignment, and then I realized I had _not_ finished and naturally, I had to finish. And then I had to sit with the way it fucking destroyed me. And for the record, my favorite line between Claire and Fleabag is when she says, 'The only person I'd run through an airport for is you.' Because sisters. I regret that I didn't have a lot of space to explore the two of them, but I wanted to at least show Claire in a fundamentally different place. So this may not be as deep or as original as other prompts you suggested, but I'm with you in terms of "fix this ending". I fear it's skimming the very surface of this beautiful, tragic, triumphant mess. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
